


A Debt Repaid

by dulce_melos



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: 2nd epilogue, Action & Romance, F/M, Humor, I'm trying to do closure, Pepper understands, Tony's trying to do good, well she mostly understands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dulce_melos/pseuds/dulce_melos
Summary: Movieverse - TS/PP. How do you pay off a debt when you're not sure you owe it...especially when it's to a bad guy? You do what you do best - research, investigate, snark a little and try to avoid Pepper's wrath. (Takes place after the events of Painful Irony)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is there such a thing as a second epilogue? I vote yes! Maybe.
> 
> This is a follow up to my story Painful Irony and takes place almost immediately after those events. In case anyone wondered what happened to Andy, here it is. Fair warning, this is about closure and paying another visit to one of my fave pairings again…beyond that, is there a point? Not so much. :)
> 
> TS/PP. Semi-established relationship. Oh, and since this all started before IM II, there's no hope of avoiding it…AU.
> 
> Disclaimer: Ironman and its characters do not belong to me. Thusly, this story was written solely for entertainment – no profit is being made.

“You honestly expect me to believe that?”

“Well.  You wanted the truth.  That’s it.”

“Yeah, but I wanted a truth that let me feel good about myself.”  Tony shook his head.  “See, now I don’t feel good about myself, and that’s not fair.”  He indicated the bandages wrapped around his shoulder, just peeking up from the edge of his collar.

Andy smiled ruefully.  “Sorry.”

“Well.  Shit.”

“Yeah.”  Looking down from the billionaire, Andy said, “But hey, don’t worry ‘bout it.  It wasn’t you that got me into this mess.  It was all me, man.”

“But you helped us out, in the end there.”  He didn’t say, _and it feels like I owe you something for that,_ because that would be crazy _._   But Tony wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself (about important things, anyway).  He knew Andy’s heart hadn’t been in that whole sorry mess almost from the beginning.  He knew the man had tried to protect Pepper.  That made all the difference.

Andy looked down at his hands.  It didn’t matter why he’d done it.  It didn’t matter what he did after to try to make up for it, the truth of it was he took a bad job, kidnapped and hurt people.  It didn’t matter that it was a rich guy and his lady that he’d hurt, or if that meant they either deserved it more or less ‘cause they were rich.  It was a couple of weeks after he’d been arrested and he still had bad dreams about the look on Ms. Potts face when Stark got hurt.  When Max was threatening her. 

That was almost punishment enough.

No, he deserved to be in this seat, in the grey jumpsuit.  It sucked, but he deserved it.  Andy looked back up to see Stark watching him, a frown creasing his forehead.  The guy looked a lot different than he did on those entertainment shows.  Now that the power…..couple(?) was back, the TV was exploding about them, showing a lot of old candid videos of Stark (in between the serious stuff about how they’d escaped).  In that old junk, he was mostly drunk and/or partying. 

Stark wasn’t drunk now.  He was sitting in front of Andy, asking questions Andy really didn’t want to answer.  More than anything, the former kidnapper had dreaded _this_ visitor.  Had half-hoped that maybe he wouldn’t ever see him again.  Back in civilized society, surrounded by his security, his money and a repaired Ironman suit, Tony Stark had both the figurative and literal power to crush him.

But he figured maybe he owed the man an explanation after everything he’d done.  So when Stark had requested a visit Andy hadn’t refused and now here they were, sitting across from each other… and again Andy had that sense that he’d had in the warehouse.  That the man was looking through him and seeing more than he was completely comfortable with.  He shifted in his seat and said again, “don’t worry about it, Mr. Stark.  I’ll take whatever happens.”  He looked down at his hands.  “You know, I used to be a handyman.  I took care of a whole building.”  Shaking his head, he chuckled sadly.  “I should have listened to my mom and stuck with it.  I’d ‘ve been a manager by now.”

Stark seemed to think for a moment, his mouth twisting.  Then he stood up, the metal chair scraping on the concrete floor.  “Right.  Well, thanks for the chat, Andy.”  He reached over the table to shake his hand.  “It was…informative.”

“Uh,” Andy reached back, surprised at the offered hand and not sure why the man had even bothered to come for the visit.  He was screwed and they both knew it.  “Yeah.  Thanks, I guess.  For you know, coming to see me.”

Tony nodded absently to the guard on his way out, lost in thought.  Vaguely, he knew on some level that the uniformed man had been about to ask him something (a picture, an autograph - a loan).  He didn’t pause or acknowledge that nudge for his attention, though.  It hadn’t been easy, but he had learned early how to deflect the kind of casual contact most people take for granted.  Everything was less complicated that way.  Stay focused on where you were going.  Don’t make eye contact.  It seemed cold, but otherwise, he’d never make it from one place to another. 

A _bodyguard_ was a natural deterrent to casual contact.  That was one of the reasons he normally had Happy Hogan, long-time friend and bodyguard extraordinaire, with him on this type of outing.  Normally….operative word there.  But Happy hadn’t been pleased to find out he was going to visit his former kidnapper.

_“Are you outta your mind?”_

_“No.  Well, I don’t think so.”_

_“Well I do.  That guy deserves to be in there, Tony.  He’s a kidnapper.  They actually took and held the two of you across state lines.  That makes it a federal offense.  They made that a federal offense because that’s kinda a really bad thing to do.”_

After watching his scowling friend stalk away, Tony decided it would probably be okay to visit a penitentiary unarmored and sans escort.  There were plenty of burly guards to spring into action at the first sign of trouble.  He turned a thoughtful eye on the door Happy had exited through, remembering the dripping sarcasm in his friend’s voice.  He knew the bluster had to do with the fact that Happy hadn’t been there to protect him and Pepper in this most recent fiasco (as if that were somehow his fault).  It was Afghanistan all over again.  Tony’s mind shied from those thoughts, beyond a quick acknowledgement that his kidnapping had farther reaching effects and had affected more people on a profound level than he really wanted to think about.  He knew damn well Happy couldn’t be there for him all the time.  And he had thought Happy knew it, too.  Apparently, however, the man wasn’t ready to believe that, no matter how true it may be.

Since pretty much all of _that_ mess was better left alone, Tony kept his thoughts on other things on the way home.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid the subject when furious blue eyes looked ready to shoot lasers at him later that evening.  It was after a blissfully peaceful meal which had been headed toward a fun and…. erm, _active_ night, and then he had to go and ruin it all by telling her what he was planning.  “Are you _serious_ , Tony?” 

“Um.  Yes?”

Pepper’s sigh was deep and long-suffering.  “Why.”

“Well, because-” and he cringed inside, preparing for the oncoming explosion, “because I feel bad for him.”

“What?!”  Pepper’s eyebrows hiked up comically, disappearing beneath the fringe of bangs as she jumped up.  “Are you joking, Tony?  Tell me you’re joking.  He’s a _kidnapper_ , Tony.  _Our_ kidnapper.”  She shook her head, crossing her arms.  “He’s evil.”

Feeling distinctly like they had abruptly exchanged roles and he was acting out her part instead of his, Tony rolled his eyes.  “No, Pepper, he’s not evil.”

“Yes, he is.  He kidnapped us.  He knocked me out and tied us both up, he….he-“ and here her voice faltered and Tony stood up, moving over to her and wrapping his arms around her.  “He…” She buried her face in the warm hollow of his neck and Tony just held her, gently rubbing a circle in the small of her back, feeling the warmth of tears on his shirt. 

He was quiet for a minute before he said, “Pepper, if you really don’t want me to do this, I won’t.” 

There was a brief silence before she looked up at him, blinking and wiping at her eyes in irritation.  Her lips twisted and she shook her head.  “No,” she sighed.  “I’m just being a child.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re right.  He did do those things.  They were evil things.”  Tony shrugged.  “And I’m pissed at him about that and what he did to you.  Maybe I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep if I left it alone and he just went to jail for a really, really long time.  It’s just,” and it was Tony’s turn to sigh now.  “I probably wouldn’t sleep very well.”

Plaintively, with just a hint of tears, Pepper said, “are you _sure_?  You _might_ sleep well.  I could make you a glass of warm milk to help.”  Tony laughed.  It was sappy, but she was adorable and sweet and he wanted to hold her like this forever.

Dipping his head down to hold her closer, he could smell the sweet smell of her shampoo, and her favorite perfume.  It reminded him of where their evening had been headed a few minutes ago.  Letting his breath gust across her cheek as he leaned in close, he smiled and murmured, “There are much better ways to help me sleep.”  Unable to resist, he tugged her in closer and let his hands wander.  “We could… tire ourselves out.”  Pepper was the one who laughed this time, soft and a little breathless.

As they headed toward the bedroom, he had barely enough presence of mind to throw back over his shoulder, “Jarvis – lock up and turn everything off, would you?”

“Of course, sir.”

* * *

 _What was I thinking?  I’m an idiot._ Tony pulled up to the curb in front of the squalid looking apartment building.  Turning off the Audi, he listened to the click, click, click as the engine cooled and looked around the neighborhood.  It was like a “run-down-tenement-housing” cookie cutter had stomped its way across several city blocks.  The closely packed buildings all had the same flavor.  Despair and destitution.  _Why haven’t these been condemned?_

There weren’t many people outside but the few that were (clustered on street corners), all dressed in jeans, tats and distinctive colors.  Looking down at his designer jeans and two-hundred dollar custom-made shirt, it occurred to Tony that maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“Sir, if I may say, this is not a good idea.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

“You’re very welcome sir.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Jarvis.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

Sighing, Tony decided to hell with it, it couldn’t be worse than Afghanistan, right?  He really needed to work on a more portable Ironman suit.  He couldn’t conduct business clanking around in full body armor, but it sure would be nice to switch out on a moment’s notice.  Pulling the key from the lock, he said, “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, let the authorities know.”  He paused. 

“Certainly, sir.”

“And don’t you dare call Pepper.”

“I shan’t sir, but I should inform you that she has already asked me to link the GPS tracking for the Audi to her cell phone.”  Knowing it was more of a fear-for-his-safety thing than an oh-god-she’s-trying-to-smother-me thing, Tony huffed a resigned breath.  Well, hopefully he could get this done and get out before she sent in the SWAT team.  He was surprised actually, that it had been Pepper and not Happy who’d decided to tag him with GPS.

“Mr. Hogan had a tracking program installed on your phone shortly after you and Ms. Potts returned, sir.”

Disturbed, he said, “I don’t think I programmed you to read minds, Jarvis.”

“You were muttering, sir.”

Oh.  Right. 

With a decisive movement, he stepped out of the car and shut the door, automatically hitting the alarm as he headed for the entrance.  He ignored the stares he got as he walked the short distance, keeping his eyes straight ahead and moving with purpose.  Though the looks he got were curious and hungry, no one moved to intercept him and soon he was inside, staring in frustration at the “out of order” sign on the elevator (slightly obscured by the graffiti generously covering almost the entire surface of the taped up doors). 

At least it was only a five-story building.  He looked at the note he’d scribbled while he had been talking to Andy.  ‘Apt.  #517’ 

_I should have worn tennies._

Five stories and too many stairs later, Tony stood in front of apartment five-seventeen.  The door was just like every other door he’d passed, but somehow it was more intimidating.  Whatever he found behind it would dictate how he was going to deal with the Andy situation.  Tony’s brain said that the guy wasn’t all bad.  But Pepper’s tears and his own conflicted feelings, kind of wanted Andy to be a bad guy.  Why couldn’t it be easy?  Why couldn’t he be really evil….completely and unreservedly and without any doubt?  Then Tony could wash his hands, move on and happily watch the man carted away after the hearing.

_He lied.  He lied, he lied.  Andy was a kidnapper, federal offense, throw away the key._

He rapped his knuckles against the door, listened for movement and prepared to run if he had to.  Footsteps.  Getting closer.  The sound of a latch, the clink of a chain, and then the door was opening.

“Yeah?”

Tony’s heart sank.  _Crap._

He looked at the tow-headed child in front of him, wary blue eyes almost-glaring, clearly labeling Tony: “the enemy,” until they widened and with a touch of wonder, he said, “hey….aren’t you Ironman?”

Tony looked down.  _Huh._   He was wearing a dark shirt today.  He’d swear the glow wasn’t visible.  Was he really that recognizable?  Avoiding an answer, he said, “Is your mom home?”

The wary look was back again.  Eyes flickered nervously before some of the bravado returned.  “What’s it to ya?”  Tony smiled.  He knew that coping mechanism.  He’d used it himself until he moved on to alcohol, sarcasm and blowing things up. 

Until he grew up, of course and…  Well.  At least he didn’t drink any more.  Much.

“I have a message for your mom from a friend.  Just wanted to relay it.”

“Re-what?”

“Relay,” at the boy’s confused look, he sighed, saying instead, “I need to give her a message.”

The boy’s mouth turned down and his feet shifted.  The door creaked on its hinges, nervous kid fingers pulling at it unconsciously.  “She’s not home.”

“Ah.”  Briefly, Tony considered taking the kid out for ice cream.  Or to CPS.  Kids shouldn’t have dark circles under their eyes.  Or clothes that looked two sizes too small and appeared not to have been washed for months.  Had his hair _ever_ been combed?  But something about the defiant and fearfully guarded look prevented him from commenting.  Or doing something that would likely get him arrested as a child abductor.  “Okay, then.  Guess I’ll have to try some other time.”  Turning, he headed for the stairwell.

_One….two…._

“Wait, mister!”

He turned back.  Tried to look surprised.  “Mmm?”

“My mom…should be home soon.  You know, if ya wanna wait.”

Tony thought about that.  It was tempting.  He could really check out Andy’s story, then.  If it were true, though, this child’s mother may not be entirely pleased to find Ironman in her home, even sans suit.  He could see the kid was lonely, though.  Probably desperately hoping for a hand up, too.  Looking at the state of his clothing, he definitely could use one.  Tony looked around the hall, noting absently that he had an audience.  A couple of the doors were cracked and closed quickly when his eyes passed over them. 

This whole place could use a hand up.  _Damnit, Andy._

Kicking himself on the inside and trying not to show it, he tipped his head in the direction of the boy’s apartment, following the child until they reached the door.  He was a sucker and an idiot.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card.  Turning it over, he scribbled a number on the back and handed it to the boy.  “Give this to your mom when she gets home.  Okay?”

The boy looked at the card, frowning.  Dubiously, he looked up, eyebrows scrinched in the middle.  His voice showed his disappointment, but he was apparently resigned to disappointment.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

Giving him a final nod, the billionaire took the stairs to the rundown lobby and made it unassaulted to his miraculously undamaged Audi.  He shrugged mentally.  He’d been a fool to think he wouldn’t be recognized (as Ironman apparently), but for once he was grateful – the shadow of the suit was obviously an effective security system.

Then again, Max and his mad plan had led him here, now.  So yeah.  That shadow was effective _most_ of the time.

Two days later, he wasn’t surprised when he still hadn’t received a call.  He wanted to just write the whole thing off, but Andy’s pre-trial hearing was coming up in less than two weeks and he still wasn’t sure what he wanted to do.  Truthfully, at this point he’d rather not deal with it at all.  It would be so much easier if he could just procrastinate to the point where the decision would be made for him.  But that wasn’t his style.  So, he set Jarvis on some additional research into the matter, in the event that call never came.

“Sir, I am unable to locate any information under the name provided by Mr. Ryan.  All legal records of the young woman end approximately seven years ago.  There is no record of the child.”

Tony didn’t reply, focused on lining up the component he was installing so the wires didn’t crimp.  He didn’t manage it.  His heart skipped a beat when he felt it slip, the plastic casing around the red and blue wire compressed to the point where telltale discoloration showed in the insulation around the bent bits.

He cursed, pulling back.  It was an awkward stretch, but he reached around to the front of the unit, gingerly straightening out the wires that had been pinched.  He considered continuing and hoping they were not too badly damaged.  Nope, not smart.  Frustrated, he set the component back on the bench and pulled more wire.  If he didn’t redo it now, he would just end up having to take the whole bloody thing apart to fix it later.   

“Crap.”

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up.

Forty-eight hours of fruitless digging and trying to forget a kid in dirty clothes had done little to improve his mood.  If something didn’t break soon Andy and his situation _would_ be beyond his control….there was precious little time to figure things out. 

IF …. _if_ …. he decided to help the man, Tony needed to write a check and get things moving pretty damn soon.  That whole ‘saving the redeemable scoundrel’ at the twelfth hour didn’t work in real life.  In real life, if you missed a court deadline it could mean months of delays.  Months or years in jail while paperwork wound its way through an insanely complicated system of bureaucratic red tape.  And no matter how good the attorney and how nice or sympathetic said attorney was to your face, they truly didn’t care how long it took; they still made three hundred dollars an hour.  No.  If Tony decided to step in, he’d better do it quick.

“Okay, Jarvis.  See if there is any other way to check…how about public records for another way to find her?”

“Not certain, sir.  I’ll do what I can.”

Things would be so much easier if he could think.

If his schedule had been insane before the kidnapping, it was absolutely chaotic now.  Some of it was his own doing, due to a typical Tony-created whirlwind of activity as he tried to cope with the fallout of said kidnapping.  Some of it was the media, some of it was the board of Stark Industries (the members of which were understandably having another freak out after all of this).  And some of it was because of his own bleary-eyed and mind-numbed, swirling view of the days _–_ it made him feel like a drunk on a carousel ride.  To clarify, that would be dizzy. And nauseous.  If he were talking percentages and time-commitment, how packed _were_ his days?  Mm.  A hundred twenty-three percent?  Yeah.  That was about right.

It wouldn’t really be a problem, he'd done it before ... except that this time, he was exhausted.

Simply _exhausted._

He couldn’t sleep.  _Strangely_ , his sleep patterns hadn’t improved since his second kidnapping.  And it appeared from Pepper’s less than peppy appearance and copious consumption of coffee during work hours that she wasn’t sleeping well either. 

He could admit that he might be hiding from facing uncomfortable thoughts by gorging in compulsive, frenzied activity.  He just couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Besides…it was all stuff that needed to get done anyway.

Within a few days of their return, the mansion was being outfitted with new tech – security upgrades he should have done a long time ago.  They were relatively massive changes, though, and it meant Tony couldn’t do them alone without taking months to do it.  So, he had done some careful investigation and hired a reputable team of people to come in and get the grunt work done.  The finer work he’d do himself with Jarvis.

Consequently, the incessant comings and goings of the techs kept Happy and his men on their guard.  Tony knew Happy had it under control.  But it bothered him that (though she’d never admit it) it made Pepper anxious and jumpy to have those strangers around during work – when she _should_ feel safe.  The day after the project began she brought her laptop into his lab and set up at the desk while he tinkered.  She hadn’t explained and he hadn’t commented.  But they both seemed to feel better for it.

That evening, a niggling worry tickled the back of his mind (even as he sighed in relief) when she didn’t protest as two body guards fell into step with her, veering off to their own vehicle when she stepped into her Audi and shadowing her return to her apartment. 

Now, it was somewhere near the wee-hours and Tony was still working on his latest project.  Jarvis was running through more possibilities on where his former employee come kidnapper, Max, had gone to ground, when his phone finally rang.  “Shall I get that sir?  The number is blocked.”  The A.I.’s calm voice pulled his attention to the chiming ring.  He’d already ignored the first two rings, caught up in what he was doing.  Grabbing a rag, he wiped his hands quickly and snatched the phone up.

“No, I got it, Jarvis.”  He frowned slightly as he hit ‘answer’.  “Tony Stark.”

There was a pause for long enough that he considered hanging up before a voice said, “Um…yeah.  Mister….I.  Uh…”  It took one-point-five seconds for him to realize it was the kid from the apartment.  Absently, he looked at the time.  Two thirty-five a.m.

He did frown then.  “Isn’t it a little past your bedtime?”

Silence.

He resisted the urge to sigh.  “Kid, it’s late.”  He shouldn’t have sat in the same position for so long.  He reached up to rub at that irritating, persistent ache in his left shoulder and made a mental note to take more frequent breaks to move around while he was working – at least until the gunshot wound was fully healed.  “I gave you the card to give your mom, remember?”

There was more silence, and then the unmistakable sound of a hitched breath.  Without even realizing he was doing it, his brow furrowed, his jaw tightening.  _I knew it was a mistake to go there.  I knew it, I knew it, I knew it._

“My mom isn’t home yet,” and the next words tumbled out between sobs, “and she’s not answering her phone.  I think she’s in trouble….please, Mister.  Can you help?”

_Dammit, Andy._

 


	2. Chapter 2

 All he’d wanted to know was if Andy was telling the truth.  That is all he wanted to know.  Just a simple little thing.  _Truth_ , Tony would write a check so the former kidnapper would be represented by a crack-team of lawyers.  _Not_ the truth, he gets whatever _no_ -money can buy. 

That’s all it had been. 

No phone calls in the middle of the night.  That wasn’t part of the plan.  No kids sounding like their world was ending when their _apparently_ less than role model mother decided to step out with a small-time….well, okay.  Mid-to-maybe-Big-Time Gangster….and then not come home.

After doing something so moronic, of _course_ you’ll turn up missing.  Tony might push the envelope, but even he knew that kind of behavior was just plain stupid. 

And he’d just been about to finish his project.  Probably... 

Scowling, he shifted to fifth and floored it.  The Audi jumped forward, weaving painlessly through the near three am traffic.

_I should just call the cops._ Good deed for the day, complete.  No sweat.

_A voice on the other end of the phone, the quaver in it a good clue that tears were on their way.  “Please mister.  Can you help?”_  

No sweat, sure.  But first he had to see the kid himself and know he was safe.  Then he’d call the cops.  It wouldn’t feel right to call from the safety of his mansion knowing there was a child sitting in a wretched apartment, alone and crying.  It really wasn’t very far.

“Sir.  If I may say, you’ve been cursing under your breath for the past five minutes.  Is there some way I can be of assistance?”

In retrospect, the visit to the tenement complex had been a horrible mistake.  “Yeah, Jarvis.  Do me a favor.  Next time let me know when something’s not a good idea.”

“Of course, sir.  How neglectful of me.”  Tony hadn’t programmed Jarvis for sarcasm.  How had that happened, exactly?

The street was quiet when he pulled up to the curb, the building dark except for the safety light in the lobby and the dim lighting on the stairs at the front entrance. 

Sitting in the cocoon of his sports car, he took in the barren street, dark with shadows.  He looked up at the gloom of the sleeping tenement.  Steeling himself, he shifted into park, turning the key to shut the vehicle off.

And Jarvis nearly scared him out of his skin.  “Sir.  As requested, I am notifying you that this is not….” 

“…a _Good Idea._ ”  Tony sighed, taking a deep breath and willing his heart to slow down before it exploded.  “Duly noted, Jarvis.”

“Very good, sir.”

Shaking his head at his own stupidity, Tony got out of the car and walked up to the building.  With more pressure than absolutely necessary, he punched 5, 1, 7 on the intercom keypad.  A tinny ringing sounded through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“It’s me, kid.  Let me up, so we can talk.”

A buzz sounded.  Steeling himself, Tony pushed the front door open and stepped inside.  Looking at the stairs confronting him, he groaned.  Was the elevator still out of order?  Ayep.  The sorry looking sign was still taped to the double-sliding doors. 

Heaving another breath, he started up the stairwell, ignoring the paranoia that nibbled at him.  Admiral Akbar’s nasally voice echoed in his imagination.  _“It’s a trap!”_

He ignored the uneasy flutter in his stomach, deciding instead that it was vitally important that he count the number of stairs until he reached the fifth floor.

_Pepper is going to be really mad at you if you get yourself killed._

Sixty-five stairs later, he opened the door to faded carpet and a tentatively lit hallway.  The air was still and silent.  517 was near the end of the hall and it didn’t make him feel any more comfortable to be faced with having to pass so many closed doors on the way there.  Somehow, everything seemed so much more sinister at three in the morning.  Maybe it was the stretch of shadow between each of the clearly inadequate light fixtures.  What were those, 20-watt bulbs?  He nodded to himself, eyes flicking across closed doors, down the tomb-quiet stretch of hall to the door that was his goal.  Yeah.  If sinister had a favorite time, it was three a.m.

It was a quick walk, though.  Before he had time to truly be spooked he was standing at the door.  Three smart raps on the wooden frame and the door opened just enough to frame a tousled head.  The kid’s wary eyes greeted him.  There was worry there, but thankfully no tears.  “Hi mister.”

His eyes narrowed.  “Hey, kid.  Did your mom show up?”

The little mouth turned down.  “No.  I,” and he paused strangely, “I got a number for where she said she was gonna be tonight, but they just hung up on me ….”  The door creaked as the boy opened it further, his face now an impressive imitation of a starving puppy.  There was no soft-light filter here, though.  Just stark shadows in the gloom of the hallway…it made the boy’s face look like something out of a late night creep show.  “Maybe if _you_ called, they’d talk to you.” 

“…”

“Pleease mister?”

There was that strange pause again.  Brow creasing, Tony didn’t need to have Jarvis there to tell him this had been a phenomenally bad idea.  What was he even doing here?  Suddenly soured to the whole idea of this late night rescue mission, Tony huffed a breath.  For a genius, he was pretty stupid sometimes. 

“Um.  Thanks but no thanks, kid.  I think I’ll wait out here.”  He pulled out his cell.  “The PD’ll be able to help you better than I can.”

Before the words had a chance to fade, the door in front of him was thrown back, the boy pushed roughly out of the way by three unsavory types.  Thick-necked and bulky, heavy-browed and tiny eyed, even their muscles looked aggressive.  They all held guns.  “That’s not a good idea, Mr. Stark,” said the first, beckoning to the smart-phone in his hand.

Mouth twisting, Tony handed it over.  “Yeah.  I’m getting that.”  The other sneered, beckoned, indicating that Tony move inside.

Stepping over the threshold, he caught sight of the boy, standing awkwardly off to the side and looking at his feet.  He was blinking fast and snuffling.  He looked miserable.  It occurred to Tony that with his tousled brown hair and faded blue eyes, he looked a lot like Andy.  “I’m sorry, mister Ironman.”

“Me too, kid.” 

One of the men turned around.  Tony dubbed him Goon #1.  He looked appreciatively at Tony’s leather jacket, but seemed to quickly realize that was no way in the world it would fit.  Making a face, the man quickly patted him down, turning out his pockets.  Wallet, keys, lint.  They went on the table near the door, with his cell phone.  Goon #2 gestured with his gun and Tony followed him down the indoor hallway and into what looked like a living room.  Vaguely, Tony registered the child was coming along with them and even pissed as he was, he worried about that.  The hall opened up to a living room roughly the size of a shoebox.  The goon brothers looked out of place and uncomfortable in the close quarters, but the other two people in the room didn’t seem to notice. 

_Yay.  It’s a party._

Still keeping tabs on the boy, Tony knew he’d stopped near the door, just outside of his peripheral vision behind him and to the left.  The goons settled in along the open wall on the right, looking a hell of a lot like stone golems, ugly and watchful … crossing their arms and leaning back on the peeling paint. 

It was obvious who was in charge here, so Tony turned his attention to the couple.

The man was grossly thin, with an air of rotting evil.  “Good job, Devin.”  The child sniffled and said nothing.  Turning his attention to his unwilling guest, he smiled nastily, more gold than white.  He was obviously much more pleased to see Tony than Tony was to see him. 

_Pepper’s going to kill me._

Strangely, that worried him more than knowing he was in danger of being dead.  Briefly, he felt a twinge of unease that he wasn’t really bothered by the situation the way he should be.  A small part of his mind wondered if he’d been through this kind of crap too many times.  Just because he’d seen it before, it didn’t make it any less dangerous. 

Maybe he was broken now. 

“Momma.  Can’t we let him go?”  The tears were back in the boy’s voice.

“Shut up, Devin.”  The woman’s snapped words didn’t hide the odd quality of her voice.  Combined with the glassy look in her eyes, it was easy to see she was high on something. 

“Please, momma?”

_“Devin!”_

“Shut it, Kate,” Gaunt man growled, his own voice colored with the sound of narcotics.  “And shut yer’ kid up.”  Stalking over to the boy, the woman cuffed him upside the head.  He made a little cry and Tony tensed, gut clenching at the sound.  Seeing the goons react to his reaction, tiny eyes going all watchful and alert, he forced himself to relax.  The woman moved back to stand next to nasty-man and he could see that she wasn’t _right._   She was trembling, ever so slightly.  Her hands weren’t steady and her eyes were glassy, shifting restlessly at the slightest movement from any of the others.  She was definitely high on something.  Even as his stomach turned over, Tony saw that she was pretty, in a simple country-girl kind of way.  She was middle height, with shoulder-length brown hair.  A dusting of freckles across her cheekbones made her seem younger than she probably was.  As she settled back into place next to the ringleader, Nasty-man threw a look at her that made her flinch away from him and she lifted one shaky hand, obviously expecting to be hit. 

Tony’s jaw tightened.  He’d known.  Andy had told him.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he had thought it couldn’t be this bad.  That somehow, Andy was exaggerating.  Maybe it was because he wanted to believe that there wasn’t an excuse for what Andy had done.  That Andy really did deserve what he got because “everyone has a choice”. 

But he looked around this room and remembered the state of the buildings these people lived in.  Not everyone had the resources Tony did, most not even a small fraction.  Before he may not have thought too deeply on that, but now, after Afghanistan, Tony knew the feeling of desperation in a way not many with his money ever would. 

What would he have done in Andy’s shoes?  

He brought his mind back to focus on Mr. Gaunt.  It wasn’t good policy to let your guard down around a gang leader and his minions.  He should probably pay attention.  _“_ What do you want,” he drawled.  “I left my checkbook at home.”  He waited, wondering how greedy the guy was, placing a mental bet with himself on how many zeroes he was going to ask for.

“The suit.”

“…what?” 

“The suit.  I want it.” 

He shouldn’t have been surprised.  Hell.  Obie had tried to kill him for it.  It made sense others would be willing to do the same.

Gaunt McNastyman stood up, stalking a few steps closer.  He stopped, just out of reach.  Absently, Tony noted that the man’s right eye was twitching.  “I’m tired of this two-bit shit.  I have that suit of yours, I can take the whole Eastside.” 

It took a minute for that to sink in.

_Seriously?_

Gangs weren’t a joke.  Too many kids, too many lives were ruined by them.  But Tony knew damn well that as _Ironman_ he could take over a small country - if he truly wished it.  This tweaker just wanted to expand his territory.  How petty could you get?  Something in his demeanor must have shown his reaction, because the other man reached back – pulling out a large and wickedly curved knife.  It looked sharp and ridiculously huge in the drug dealer’s hand.  Irritation flashed quickly as his heart sped up.  _Compensating much?_   Tony risked a glance around and saw that the goon-golems were sitting with relative disinterest, apparently only waiting for their boss to direct them.  And Kate…

Her eyes were flitting between Devin, Tony and her boyfriend.  The fingers of the hand she’d used to strike her boy were twined in her shirt, twisting the edge of the cloth and pulling it out of shape.  She still seemed out of it, but Tony could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead.  Could almost feel the anxiety rolling off her.  Inwardly he smiled.  Apparently, bad habits aside, Andy’s little sister didn’t have much of a taste for this kind of thing either. 

He caught her eyes.  Her gaze flitted away briefly, but snapped back to his quickly enough.  Something she saw there must have bothered her, because she blinked quickly and looked down.  Tony could just barely see a miserable flush of shame creep across her face.

Okay, then.

Ignoring the weapon, he said, “I can’t help you…I didn’t bring the Ironman suit with me.”  He spread his arms to illustrate the point.  It probably would have been smarter not to sound like a smart-ass. 

McNasty advanced on him, that eye of his still twitching.  He pressed the cold metal up against Tony’s jaw.  “Think you have the power here, rich man?”  He was close enough for Tony to see the clogged pores on the man’s filthy skin.  He inhaled a tight breath, almost gagging at the whiff he got of old sweat, rotting teeth and who knew what else.

“There’s this thing called toothpaste.  It really helps.”  He hissed as the blade pushed harder, pricking at his skin and tipping his head back.  _Shut up, Tony.  He’s crazy and insecure…he might kill you just for the bragging rights._

Making an angry sound, the man sneered.  “Shut up.”  His eyes were oddly dilated, from drugs or something else Tony didn’t know, but they darted unevenly around the room and settled on his minions where they were imitating statues against the wall.  Maybe judging to see if he’d lost any status with them.  He needn’t have worried.  They didn’t appear to really be listening.  “Well, we’ll just have to go get it then.  Joey, get over here.”

One of the statues detached itself from the wall, pulling some duct tape from a pocket with a massive paw.  Heart sinking, Tony found his arms behind his back, wincing at the pull to his still-healing injuries.  Damn, but he really hated this.  He’d brought some insurance with him and even now he knew that he could get himself out of this with relative ease.  But it would leave Kate and Devin to McNasty’s tender mercies.  That didn’t sit well with him.

Plan B, then.

“Easy, fellas,” he said as they pushed him towards the apartment door.  The sixty-five step trudge downstairs was tense and silent.  Tony couldn’t help keeping a tab on the child and the young woman, slightly behind him and one goon back.  Though his situation didn’t change when they hit the fresh air outside, it was still a relief.  Tony could not help but think he was beginning to have issues with closed in areas. 

Throwing a longing eye toward his Audi as they pushed him toward a rough looking low rider, he said, “I dunno guys.  You sure you want to leave my car here?” 

McNasty looked over, considering.  “Yeah.  You’re right…it’s too sweet a ride to leave.  Who knows what’ll happen to it in this neighborhood.”  He said it like “nayburhud”.  Walking over to Tony, he reached toward his jacket pocket but Tony was already shaking his head.

“Uh-uh.  Sorry, dude.  Your guys cleaned my pockets out already, remember?  My cell and keys are up in the apartment.”

A flash of anger and confusion briefly crossed the other’s face.  Like he wasn’t sure if he was being played.  But seeing the worried looks on his men’s faces, he made a disgusted sound.  “Rufe.  Go get his stuff.  Hurry it up.”  Actually, what he said took longer to say and was much more colorful than that, but Tony found it entertaining to try and filter it all down to PG-13. 

Tony could see the tiny blue blinking light on the dash of his Audi.  Three short blinks, three long blinks, three short.  Pause and repeat.  To most, it just looked like the alarm was active.  Since the Audi didn’t have a ‘traditional’ alarm, it was, Tony thought, a pretty heavy-handed message from Jarvis.  He resisted rolling his eyes, even as he was smiling inside.  He looked over the group quickly.  Jarvis was doing what he could, having obviously picked up on the subtext in McNasty’s profanity, so it was up to Tony to make the best of it.  And he’d better be quick about it.  When Rufe (aka Goon #1) got back with his keys and they stuffed him into a car, his choices would be a lot more limited.  He couldn’t let that happen.  When the door to the apartment building closed on Rufe’s lumbering form, the pseudo-captive/inventor made a half-turn to the right, snapping his wrist and twisting his forearm.  It was harder than he’d anticipated with his hands behind his back and the creak of pain twinging through his half-healed wound, but c’est la vie.  The spring loaded rig under his jacket did just as it was designed to do.  The two metal prongs sprung free just as Tony’s rotation put them into contact with Goon 2’s ribcage.  There was a crack, the smell of ozone and the man fell. 

See?  Easy peasie.  McNasty spun around to see what had happened, only to find Tony had freed his hands and was suddenly a lot closer, without a troll-sized barrier between them.  Tony wondered if the smile on his face looked as unpleasant as it felt.  This whole ‘being taken captive’ shtick was _so_ last year. 

He was definitely over it - and pretty fucking furious at finding himself in this type of situation…. _again_.

It felt like his bad-smelling opponent was moving in slow motion.  McNasty’s snarling curse, the scrabbling reach behind his back once again for the weapon he had hidden there – whipping his arm around and the shine of the streetlight on grey metal.  Almost casually, Tony intercepted that arm, feeling another twinge in his abused shoulder that had him cursing in his head, even as that cold smile remained on his face.  Another crack and whiff of ozone. 

Hmm.  That little trick might be a bit overpowered for a man this size.  Tony knelt, looking over the boneless pile of scrawny drug-dealer.  He barely acknowledged the faint relief that registered at the rise and fall of the man’s chest.  Still alive.  Absently, he noticed the girl had disappeared _(of course)_ but Devin was still there. 

Okay. 

Enough of this.  “Jarvis, call the police.  There’s a mess that needs picking up, here.”

“Sir, they are already on the way.”  Sirens sounded in the near-distance.  Right about then he caught the sound of running footsteps and turned to see Rufe had exited the apartment during the excitement and was heading south.  He sighed.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes sir?”

“Activate the GPS tracking installed on my cellphone.  Hopefully ‘Rufe’ doesn’t have the common sense to dump it.”

“Certainly sir.  Shall I notify the authorities with that information or would you rather … handle things yourself?”

Tony looked over at the boy left standing in the street in front of him, looking terrified and unsure of what to do.  Tempted as he was to take the suit out and blow off some steam, he shook his head.  “No, Jarvis.  I think I’ve had enough fun for the evening.  Give the information to the police.”

“Very good sir.”

That decided, he turned his full attention to the child in front of him.  The boy didn’t seem comforted in the least and seemed to be seriously considering bolting.  “Hey, kid.”  Easing forward, he shot a look at the approaching blue and reds.  He didn’t have much time.  This kid would run for it if he looked away…and as soon as the cops got here, there would be too much distraction. 

“Devin.  Hey….look at me.”  At the sound of his voice, the boy blinked and rocked back on his heels.  Quickly, Tony said, “Devin, it’s okay.  I know this wasn’t your fault.”  He gestured to the fallen criminals.  That defensive look came back.  He shifted, his eyes darting – looking for the best exit.  The police were very close now.  “I came to see you for a reason.  Your uncle, your uncle Andy sent me.”

The boy’s eyes squinted.  With a sinking feeling, Tony knew he was about to take off…and who knew how long it would take to find him again?  “But you…you’re the one got ‘im sent him to jail.”

He cringed, but wasn’t about to lie now.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I did.  It’s …look, it’s complicated.”  He gestured with his hands, placating.  “But I went to see him.  And when I did, your uncle told me you needed help…that your mom needed help.”

Kicking himself for what he was about to promise but unable to stop himself, he finished, “I can do that.  I’ll help you both…just-just don’t run.”

He flashed back to angry blue eyes and the pain in Pepper’s voice, ‘ _he’s evil.’_

_Sorry, Pepper._ But he knew Pepper wouldn’t let a child live like this if she could prevent it.  The wariness in the child’s eyes dimmed, just slightly, as LAPD’s finest pulled up, surrounding them.  Tony wasn’t an idiot.  He couldn’t just let this kid go back to that life.  Without the dubious protection of the gang leader, what kind of life would be waiting for the young woman and this boy?  At best - the same miserable existence - at worst - much worse.

Kneeling down, he looked into Devin’s face.  He was close enough to be protective and not close enough to be a threat.  He caught the boy’s eyes and nodded.  “We’ll get it all figured out.  Okay?”  He watched the boy’s brow furrow as uniformed men approached them, guns out but lowered, while others moved to the unconscious men behind them.  “We’ll help your mom, too.”

Taking a half-step closer, Devin didn’t respond.  But he nodded, small and hesitant.

One side of Tony’s mouth turned up.  Okay then.  Progress.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s hot.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t.  You’re not even sweating.”

“Of course I’m not sweating.  Women don’t sweat.  Women perspire.”

“Ah-ha!”

“I didn’t say I was perspiring, either.”

“Are we there yet?”

Pepper sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile.  “Tony, you’re the one that wanted to come here.  My goodness, Devin complains less.”  She looked over at the boy, holding his ice cream cone and standing on his tiptoes to peer into the elephant habitat.  The zoo was fairly empty and they had made good time.  They were halfway through it already.  The boy seemed to be having a great time, soaking up everything he saw.  He didn’t notice when the adults lagged behind.  Either that or he was tuning them out.  He’d told Pepper he had never been to the zoo before.  “So, did Andy’s pre-trial go well?” 

Tony was relieved the question didn’t seem to carry any additional weight.  So, Pepper hadn’t been lying when she said she was okay with his decision.  He ran his hand along the top of the hip-high stone wall that bordered the habitat as he answered.  “As well as can be expected.  It looks like the prosecutor is willing to negotiate.”

She made a sound of understanding, sipping at her soda, her eyes watchful on their temporary charge.  They both had noticed that kids were a lot like birds….taking off at any moment and going where the wind took them.

“They said they’ll drop some of the charges, but he’ll have to take ownership on the kidnapping charge.  He may get credit for time served.  If it goes _really_ well, he’ll be out after a year.”

“…how’d he take it?”  It sounded like she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but couldn’t help asking.

Tony shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I can’t imagine anyone being happy about that kind of news.”  He turned his head, tracking a dove taking flight.  “Overall, though, I don’t think he can complain.”

“No…” she paused and then said, “but I don’t think he would.”

Tony had to agree, thinking of the resigned attitude Andy had when they’d talked at the start of this (God that seemed like a long time ago).  When Andy had given the reason (‘not an excuse,’ he’d said) that he’d participated in the kidnapping, and told Tony he would take what he had coming to him. 

Tony clearly remembered that awful twist in his stomach as Andy said it.  Not guilt, no…because Andy had committed a crime and had hurt Pepper, but a feeling that maybe the guy didn’t deserve the _full_ extent of the law.

Pepper caught his gaze, pulling him back to the present.  One side of her mouth turned up in a rueful smile, “don’t ever remind me that I said this, but…you were right to help him, Tony.”

Tony smiled at her, half a dozen smart-ass remarks spinning through his mind, but all he did was nod. “Thanks.  I had my doubts, too.”  One shoulder went up, dropped.  He couldn’t quite meet her eyes.  “I have to believe that people can screw up royally, maybe more than once….and still be worth redeeming.”

Pepper didn’t say anything, understanding exactly what he meant, as only Peppers do.

Devin was getting further and further away.  “Devin!” Tony called.  “Get back here, little man.” 

The little man in question turned, treating the two adults to the sight of a face absolutely covered with melted chocolate ice cream.  Pepper winced, setting her soda down and digging into her purse for a napkin while Tony laughed.  The little boy they were spending the afternoon with was a far cry from the boy Tony first met in the apartment building weeks ago.  This little boy was clean (with the exception of the ice cream), and looked happy.  There were still a few shadows in his eyes…but that was understandable.  He hadn’t seen his mom for a while.  But she was finally doing what she was supposed to be doing.  If she could stay on the wagon for the next few days, Protective Services said the two could have a supervised visit.

“How are you doing with the Mediros’?” Tony asked Devin, watching Pepper wet a napkin from their drinking water and swipe (ineffectively) at the boy’s ice cream covered cheeks. 

“Eh.” He grunted, one eyebrow and one shoulder going up simultaneously.  “They’re alright.”  He frowned, small eyebrows creasing, apparently torn between missing his mom, acknowledging the truth about his temporary foster placement and wanting to be surly…out of habit.  It made Tony dizzy, watching all those emotions skitter through the kid’s expressions.  “They have a dog.”

“Mhm.  They do, huh….what color?”

“Cow colored.” 

Tony snorted.  Pepper smiled, reaching down to wet the napkin again.  Most of the brown was on the napkin by this time.  “Of course.  This dog have a name?”

“Uh… _Mabel_?”  But he looked doubtful and this was obviously not an important detail and just as obviously, they had used up as much time as the boy was willing to grant them.  Pulling away from Pepper mid-wipe, he wrinkled his nose.  Taking a lick of his mostly melted ice cream (undoing the majority of Pepper’s efforts), he ran to the next exhibit.  Monkeys – the funny looking ones with the big noses.  They were talking to each other with big whooping cries, swinging on the branches in their rock wall surrounded space. 

“Careful!”  Pepper called, “Don’t get too close.”  Tony watched her watching Devin, one side of his mouth turning up when she chuckled.  Devin had managed to choc-lify his nose, and was not having any luck getting it off his face with his empty hand.  Consequently, he was again, almost entirely covered in chocolate.  Tony nodded.  15 seconds.  Impressive.

He looked over to his sweetheart, jerking his chin and indicating the child.  “If you want one of those, I can help you with that.”  He winced almost before he finished saying it.  He was joking of course, but what if she didn’t see it that way?  What if she said yes, what if she said yes and she was serious about wanting a _kid_ , not about jumping into bed?

Pepper looked over at him, processing that.  She laughed.  “Oh really?  I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”  Tony returned her smile, that tight feeling going away, replaced with relief.  Kids would be fun, sure…just not quite yet.  Laughing a little, Pepper looked down at her hands, swiping at some errant drips of chocolate.  “I have enough trouble handling _your_ messes.”

Tony stuck his tongue out at her.

She wrinkled her nose at him.  “Yeah.  Definitely not ready to have a baby, but,” then her eyes twinkled, though it might just have been the afternoon sun.  “…but I’m willing to practice making one.”

Tony grinned.  Time to pick up the pace.  “Hey, Devin.” 

The boy looked away from the monkeys, blue eyes bright.  “Yeah?” 

“Let’s get a move on.”

* * *

Tony considered leaving things where they were. 

Andy knew he’d been (somewhat) vindicated in Tony’s eyes – how could he not?  Stark’s defense attorneys represented him, had worked with the prosecutor and plea bargained the heck outta the sentence the kidnapper would have gotten otherwise.  Andy had to have heard from his sister by now…she was out of that nightmare situation and on the road to being clean (though sadly, Tony knew chances were good she would slip up again at some point).  But little man Devin was in school, well-fed and the dark circles under his eyes were gone.  It would’ve taken a Genie and three wishes to get a happier ending.

What more was there to say?  Well.  Mainly thanks to his lovely assistant-turned-sweetheart, Ms. Pepper Potts, Tony was about to find out.  This was all her fault. 

_“Go see him, Tony.  He’s closing a chapter in his life.  Maybe turning a corner.”  She’d heaved a breath like she didn’t really want to finish the thought, but continued….casually…because she knew him too well, “you are too.  If it were me, I’d need some kind of closure.”_

So, here it was, late in the afternoon.  Tony had set up a brief meeting with Andy.  The plea bargain arrangement had been approved, the paperwork was done and Andy’s time would be starting that afternoon.  He was leaving in half-an-hour from the court to go directly to jail.  Do not pass go, do not collect $200.00.  It was amazing that now arrangements were made and agreed upon, what had been a slow-as-molasses process was moving at light speed. 

The room they were in was small, relatively barren.  A table, a couple of chairs, couch and a small desk.  A guard stood outside and the door was cracked enough that Tony could just see the blue edge of the burly man’s sleeve.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” the former kidnapper looked nervous, and where Tony might have expected smiles and many, _many_ thanks, instead it was something completely different and he felt distinctly uncomfortable.  The man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Uh.  Maybe I should go.”

That earned him Andy’s full attention.  “No!  Please don’t, um, what I mean is....”  The brown-haired kidnapper wore a frown and he lowered his voice when his near-shout earned him a glare from the guard.  He met Tony’s eyes briefly and then focused on the floor again with enough intensity that the carpet _might_ catch fire.  “Look, I uh, don’t know what to say about everything you did…” he muttered, his voice fading into an indistinct mumble.

Tony decided that in the future he should listen to his completely rational, responsible, adult male instincts instead of well-intentioned but misguided girlfriend’s assertions that ‘closure’ was a good thing.  Closure, schmosure.  This kind of discomfort just wasn’t worth it.

But Andy was talking again.  “…what you did for me and my sis.”  To Tony’s horror, when Andy looked up this time, his eyes were red and brighter than they should be in the conference room lighting.  “And for what you did for my nephew.  I just,” he shook his head and stopped talking.

Tony started to say ‘don’t worry about’, or ‘it wasn’t a problem’, or even, ‘it was kind of an accident’, but Andy beat him to it, getting a grip on himself and saying…

“Mr. Stark.  I’ll never be able to repay you, you and Miss Potts both.”  He huffed a breath.  It was almost a laugh.  “After what I did to you, you could’ve let me rot.  You should’ve, maybe.  But,” and now he did smile.  “Instead, you fixed what got me into this.”  Just then, from the corner of his eye, Tony saw the guard look at his watch.  Turning, the uniformed man stepped into the room, heading towards Andy.  He didn’t have to say that time was up, it was obvious.  With the air of a man on his way to jail (maybe because he was), Andy said, “I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I want you to know that I appreciate what you did.”  Tentatively, Andy held out his hand to his former captive.  “Thank you.” 

Tony reached out and shook Andy’s hand.  “You’re welcome.”

Andy nodded, seeming satisfied.  He turned to follow the guard, but paused when Tony said, “you know, I might have accidentally bought some apartments that need a lot of work.”  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card.  Held it out to Andy.  “There’s way too much for the current building manager to do.  You mentioned you used to be a handyman.  Do good in there, get out early - there just might be a job waiting for you.”

Andy looked at the card, eyebrows creasing almost ridiculously in surprise.  But he hesitated only a moment.  Taking the card, he flicked the edge of it with his thumb and gripped it tighter, grinning.  “Yeah, if it’s still there when I get out…I’ll take it.”

One side of Tony’s mouth turned up as he watched Andy leave.  He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, feeling a weight lift.  He’d started this just wanting to know the truth -- and repay a debt.  Amazingly, he’d managed both. 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he pivoted, walking out into the hall and heading toward the exit.  He knew he wasn’t done with this yet, he still had to find Max.  But that was just a matter of time and when it happened, the outcome was a given.  Settling this bit with Andy was probably the biggest part of moving past those awful days in the warehouse.

Time to go home.  Kiss Pepper, eat dinner, tinker in the shop.  The court conference room door swung shut behind him, a reminder that Andy was on his way to jail.  That the man still had to face the consequences of his actions, regardless of the reason he’d done them.  Tony couldn’t feel guilty about that though.  At least now the man has hope of a decent living when he gets out and just as importantly, his sister and nephew have a chance at some kind of life too.

Yeah.

Okay, Pepper’s right.  Closure’s not such a bad thing.  He grinned.  Tonight he’d _finally_ get some real rest. And regardless of whether he had a glass of milk or … something else, he’d sleep well.

_finis_


End file.
